


burning from the inside out

by nitroish



Category: No Fandom
Genre: I Tried, Lowercase, Mental Health Issues, Mild Gore, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-24 11:20:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18164543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nitroish/pseuds/nitroish
Summary: - and theres fire, in my stomach, inside the walls of my body and cells, trying to crawl its way up my spine, to burn my black scorched hearts ashes -wrote this awhile ago as vent, just now posting it for people to see





	burning from the inside out

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimers/warnings here if you didnt see the tags
> 
> \- this is how i felt when i wrote this, these are my thoughts laid out when in the middle of something i felt i needed to rant about
> 
> \- emeto warning for some of you, i do think i wrote something in there about it
> 
> \- some gore
> 
> [random thought: why do some people put t.warnings at end of chapters? thats kinda weird to me.]

and theres fire, in my stomach, inside the walls of my body and cells, trying to crawl its way up my spine, to burn my black scorched hearts ashes, i feel it grow, i want to cry, i want to scream, it flicks its way up into the back of my throat, and it tastes like Bile, the way it burns, the way it leaves a hot acidic taste in the back of your throat you cant get to fucking Go Away, not until its done its way and gotten the fuck out of your body,

so my tongue turns to fire and i puke up words i might mean now, i spit the foreign language of red hot metal, lava, molten magma that finally appears and drips from behind my teeth, out onto cool blue grey water, i watch the water burn and evaporate, the red words, yellow lies, blue hot ideas, all torturing the waters feet and licking its way up to its knees, my tongue rests in charred torn pieces in the back of my burning distasted mouth, my eyes refuse to bleed true blue, the fire behind those dry, unforgiving lids is buring bright, and its taking over, my thoughts are molten grey embers that ignite upon the slightest touch, the slightest switch of the wind, my eyes turn red, they burn, the black under my eyes is ash, drifting from them, flaking down onto the skin of my cheeks and lips below, floats down into skin, painting itself its own home there,

i swallow the ash of my tongue, the residue of my fire, the embers that i feel beginning to quell, i breathe out, finally, and smoke billows from my mouth, into the waters face, into the atmosphere, and when i breathe in i breathe in coal and cinders from the fire i set on the water, my lungs are ash now, the lining black and charred, broken and unstable, a fireplace that hasnt been watched over, it is its own still burning campfire after those have gone to rest, making a mistake to not throw water on it, to drown it, choke it out, making a mistake not to kill it.

and my bones are made from burnt, black and white wood, dry and ready to catch again, the leftovers of things that shouldnt have happened, a wildfire left to its own devices, lit by someones own hand, a mistake of leaving a fire going, a mistake, and the veins under my skin all burn red, yellow, blue, orange, and you can see the ash under my skin, of my skin, flaking off, dry and cracking under the slightest pressure, somehow still managing to stay clumped together,

and water cant help this flaming, crumbling kiln, this old welders crucible, there no red yellow blue left bleeding in my mouth, water is on fire and i stand in a pile of my own ash and red hot words, the lava licking at my heels, you cant hear water as it rolls over itself and under itself, and some of the fire littering its skin is swallowed, pushed under the waters waves, drowned, and the rest continues to burn, and i watch it, silent, unmoving, a few cracks of the embers in my mind breaking in two, the dull fire behind this ash caked skin tells me to fight, to scream, to pull my teeth out so i cant bite my tongue and hide the bubbling liquid resting on my tongue, to throw up my last defence against something stronger than i, to take my hands and let one last word out, an onomatopoeia on paper, a sick sound, a loud crackle, the sound of cold water on a fresh off the stove pan,

i dont lash out again, or, i try my best, i shove the fire back into the brightest corner of my mind so i cant see it, light blocking out more harmful light, as if thatll get rid of it, i shove the cinders in my mouth back down with my tongue, into my chest and then my stomach, i pick myself up and put myself together, gluing bits of wood together haphazardly despite not knowing where which piece goes where, i refuse to burn and boil water by letting it help, by letting it get close enough, by the time i have finished stabbing myself with my own burnt skin, water has put out the flames on itself

and They are concerned. water is breathing and blowing too close, i feel, hear, the water licking the edge of the lava i left, watch as it hardens, cools, the waves create soft waves in the air, i fear the wind will kick up a fire from the embers under all the ash i tried to bury it in so i step back,  
and back,  
and back,  
and back until i hit a wall and can go no further, so i turn my back to the coolness, my fingers burn and my arms are on fire under the scarred skin left, and i push my hot, burning palms on the wall, and wait, and wait and wait and wait-

i dont see waters insides turn to ice, i dont see the frost coating eyelashes and lips, theyre being frozen from the inside out, and their hands turn cold and soon their skin doesnt roll over their bones, their breath turns to a new ash, an ash only created by water, it isnt flaky, black, or the sign of death, its a softer, harsher fog that lasts only moments and flies off into the air,

theyre cold and reaching out and i dont see them,

i dont see them beyond the fear and the ash, the fire that burned them, the words and bile mixed lava i spit at them, the yellow and blue they somehow managed to forgive, the fire i set onto them, the ash i let fall from my eyes in front of them, i dont see past the mistakes and my own faults, and i wheeze around a hunk of broken skin that wasnt meant to be part of my throat, the leftover white coated wood i stabbed myself with to keep me together, pull it out and ill crumble into ash and bits and pieces, troublesome for others to have to put together, useless, to be scraped away and forgotten, left to drift in the wind across the nothing, never having been put back together after the first fire, left to crawl in my own ash and dust and bones, left to stab myself back together, skin and wall broken and cracked and more fragile, wet red on black, mixing together, bleeding an ugly colour,

i hide scars, broken, misplaced bones, black wooden splinters under my growing hair, under my clothes, my tongue, my skin, and when i burn again the fire burns away the piece holding me all together, i hold myself together until ash flakes off my hands and arms, the green of grass and leaves and trees run, not wanting to be burned, and im left to become my own firepit again, a half circle in the middle of nothingness, left to trek to the shed, to grab my own shovel, to shovel myself into a pile so i may pack it back onto my still flaking black burned skin so the embers that live under my surface are covered once again, and i crack and break from the fire in my stomach that still burns, through me, through my mind, thoughts, and skin

i snap, stab the wooden spikes back into my skin, haphazardly, alone, no more true blue coming from my eyes, ash and dry sobs, crackles, pops others find pleasing to listen to, and the urge to /scream/ until i am my own fiery tornado surfaces once more, boiling the fire drenched magma in my stomach, in my chest, burning my bones and veins, sending flicks of pain to my eyes, but i dont, because then the cracked, haphazardly snapped and stabbed back in place, misused, torn skin pieces of my burns and body will be thrown everywhere, and i have no energy to grab the shovel once more and scrape together something that withers away, burns itself and cries into the wind,

so i dont scream out my selfish problems, or my selfish truths or the selfish ideas that burn my throat and mind, because if i let myself go who would take the time to piece me, my ash, and blackened wooden bone back together? years of me using my own skin to stab myself together, me just letting the steam out by picking at skin before stabbing the wood n ash back into my own body anywhere, shaky and messy, instead of where they should go, instead of taking time to truly piece things together, refusing to let anyone touch my burning skin, only hoping to cover the worst of the cracks, breaks, tears and burns, the weaknesses on myself, to put on a toxic to breathe in, dark face, helped by the look of ash stained into my skin.

my tongue is ash still and i cant speak with it. when it forms back into something solid to speak with, i tear it from my mouth so i may not burn water like i did, so i may not light another substance up, so i dont leak ash and toxic fumes, so i cant pollute the liquid, or the air with every breath i take, and i know that if i fall apart again, the fire in my stomach will burn through my skin, through my bones and muscle, through veins and tendons, through my eyes and teeth, the wind will blow ash and debris everywhere and ill do nothing to get the pieces and bits of me back, so i will be dry, too hot, burning, charred and ugly, broken and holes littered across everything from where i used myself as a nail to keep myself together.

...

 

the water is frozen, cold, still, my chest screams for them, i can never tell them how sorry i am. my tongue burned out, yanked from my body by my own hands, i feel as though i took the hammer to their arms myself, rang down and cracked off pieces and bits of their frozen skin, and i know that i could never help them heal, turn back into soft waves again,

because i am fire, and i burn, and i pollute, and i destroy and ruin, and my ash chokes and kills, i leave behind red smoked wood, debris, black flaked pieces of myself, things no one needs, wants, should deal with,

so i selfishly wish them the best, walk away, ash and embers left behind in my footprints, my eyes burning, leaking red black flakes of lava that burns through my entire being, leaving behind them, my mistakes, leaving the hardened lava where i stood to be dealt with without me, and i eventually turn to ash that cant burn any longer, wasting away in nowhere of nothing.


End file.
